WARNING: This fanfiction mentions child abuse and neglect. Also child-on-child violence and murder. The main character is briefly part of the Red Room, what did you expect?
All my translations are from Google, so if you happen to be fluent in Russian, please don't end me.
самолет - Airplane.
Россия - Russia.
Да - Yes.
Stefanya followed Mama, the respectful three steps behind like she had been taught. The past three days have caused some of the most confusion in her short five years of life. First, her and Mama got onto a machine - called a самолет - and flew to a new place called Россия.
In America, Mama spoke a mixture of Russian and English, one that used to get odd looks from neighbors and those in public. However, since the самолет landed in Россия, she has spoken primarily Russian.
"Мы с кем-то встречаемся." Spoke Mama, not looking over her shoulder towards Stefanya.
We're meeting someone.
The child could hardly contain a gasp, and in English, asked, "Who?" She didn't remember Mama mentioning another person, though, to be far, she never often explained things to her. Mama made it clear that Stefanya was an unwanted addition to her life, and she would repay with every breath for existing, as Mama could have changed that by now.
"Ask not." Snapped the woman, also in English, turning around to face her child and grabbing her wrist with a harsh grip. Her voice was thick with a Russian accent and her words dripped with poison. "Curious girls will not be needed, are we clear?"
Lowering her eyes to the ground, Stefanya nodded, "Да, Mama."
Mama nodded once, let go of her wrist, and turned back around. Still not moving, her brown eyes scanned the crowd, searching for whom she was to meet. When brown met brown, she grinned.
"ребенок, встретить Madame B."
Child, meet Madame B.
She never had a last name. Mama never told her it, she simply said, "You are Stefanya, never more, never less."
It was no different in the Red Room. They didn't care if the girls had names or not, they didn't care if the girls had thoughts or feelings or wants or fears. They only cared how hard she can fight, how good she can shoot, how precise she can stab, how quickly she can kill.
There was a girl she often spoke to when no one could hear. Annika wasn't unlike Stefanya. They were part of the same group, both of their mothers sold them into the organization, and both wanted nothing more than to escape. Escape. Escape.
Anika had a last name, Utkin. She gave Stefanya a Russian last name, too, Ivanov.
In return, Stefanya Ivanov killed her a year later.
The want for escape only worsened.
Escape. Leave. Get away. Escape. Freedom. Find a way.
The words repeated in her head every hour of the day. Whatever they did the brainwash the girls did little to her, like there was some block in her mind. She didn't question it, she only thanked whoever was there to listen for the help.
Escape. Leave. Freedom.
It seemed like a male's voice, one she had never heard before. But she couldn't ignore it. At night, when their hands were handcuffed to their rock hard beds and those around her slept, she fell victim to the words pounding into her head.
Escape. Escape. Escape.
So she listened.
She placed her free fingertips against the lock of her cuff, feeling in her mind the interworking of it. Unaware that not every person had this ability, she hardly used it, assuming it to be a typical function like eating or using the bathroom. And she hardly did those, either. Red Room had little time for girls to be humans.
Hearing the satisfying click of the handcuffs coming undone, Stefanya removed it from her wrist and rubbed the raw skin. You'd assume, after three years of the same treatment, she'd be used to it.
She never was.
Removing the thin sheet from her body and hesitantly placing her bare feet against the ice cold floor, she held her breath, listening for the smallest sound to indicate someone was awake, or that she was found out and someone was coming to fix it. To fix the broken cog in their never-ending machine.
When no one made themselves known, she stood, choosing to ignore the scratching of the uncomfortable nightgown and the feeling of the loose pieces of her dark hair falling into her face.
Once more staying still, finding that there's never a problem with being too careful (especially when you live with future assassins and their teachers), she relished in the silence of night and reached under her mattress.
Her fingers clutched over the stray nail under said mattress. She found it coming out of the wall by the singular toilet the girls had access to, as if taunting them. Daring them to use it. Use it on yourself or another, it said. And she listened.
Stefanya wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who got in her way of freedom.
She walked on her tiptoes, careful not to make a noise as she seemingly glided through the dark. This was a part of her training, to not be heard or seen unless wanted. How to blend into the shadows - how to become a shadow.
When Stefanya found herself at the massive door, she placed her hand against the lock, once again seeing a map of how it worked in her mind. It was complicated, obviously specially made and vigorously worked on, and her ability was rusty, so it took her several minutes to get it unlocked.
And when it did, it made a louder sound than before. Her eyes snapped open, head looking over her shoulder and ears tuned into the dark. She dared anyone to awake, clutching the nail tough enough that she felt her own nails, kept long enough to do harm if needed, stabbing in her palm.
As if they heard her threats, no one stirred.
Mentally begging anyone who listened, rather it be a God or Fate, for her plan of escape to work, Stefanya slowly opened the door. It made not a single noise, which she once again thanked whoever took pity on her, and she slipped through the crack.
For the second time she moved soundless through the shadows, her body pressed against the wall as she only allowed herself small breaths, therefore to not alert anyone to her presence. She waited until she saw a guard, and hoped she saw them before they saw her.
She couldn't afford for this to fail.
Stefanya's luck ran thin when she saw the heads of two adults talking. She felt all hope deflated from her and was tempted to make a quick escape to the somewhat safety of the sleeping room when she saw one was Madame B.
She had never witnessed Madame fight, but the woman herself was cruel, uncaring, and terrifying. She cared about nothing but crafting the perfect assassins, and any weakness was either quickly crushed or dealt with via death. She watched with a wicked smile as girls fought against themselves, killing each other or causing permanent harm. She was the one who told Stefanya to snap dear Annika Utkin's fragil neck when she had won a sparring match.
Madame B. was her nightmare personified.
She crouched down as far as she could, attempting to hear any snippets of the conversation. She found herself too far to get a good grasp, and was about to make her way back to the hard arms of her mattress, when she witnessed Madame make her way down the otherside of the hallway.
It felt like a massive weight had been removed from her shoulders, and she clutched the nail just a slight bit tighter, preparing to shove it through the man's temple if he got too close for comfort.
Fate must have been truly on her side, for the man soon followed after Madame, to where she assumed the adults slept. She counted to ten, then twenty, then thirty, and then thirty-five, and when no more people made themselves known, she moved once more.
Three years ago, when she was five-years-old and innocent towards the true horrors of the world, she walked through the doors with a handful of other girls in her age range. As the years passed and she hadn't left the Red Room, the existence and placement of said door had become fuzzy.
She had an understanding, though, and made quick movements to the general area. It didn't take her long to locate the door, the only thing stopping her from the sweet taste of freedom, and at the sight of it, she made hasty steps towards it.
Pressing her palm directly against the lock, she, for the third time that night, allowed her mind to absorb all it offered. It was even more complex and hard to crack, and she deemed it nearly impossible to lock-pick. Her mind spinned as she made quick work to unlock it, feeling an energy drain as it used anything she offered in order to become unlocked.
When the sound of success filled the air, so did the sound of defeat. The noise of footsteps allerted Stefanya to the presence of another, and clutching her nail hard enough that her nails once again dug into her skin, she moved into a fighting stance.
Her blue eyes met the green of Karine, another child tarnished by the Red Room, and who she assumed would be soon to die. The girl, though she packed a punch and had the body strength needed to fight, lacked the gracefulness and sleath Madam B. also demanded in the girls. Her ballet left something to be desired, as well. She knew right away what she hoped to get from this: By bringing in an escapee, especially someone like Stefanya (who was considered only a few places behind the top of the class) would help bring her image up to the instructors.
"Что делаешь?" Karine asked, though she assumed she both knew and didn't care.
What are you doing?
Stefanya refused to let her gaze waver from the girl standing in front of her, knowing fully well that she could be as deadly as anyone else in the building. She too had blood on her hands, much like herself. "Свобода. Я не могу остаться здесь."
Freedom. I can't stay here.
"Вы можете. Ты будешь."
You can. You will.
She shook her head, preparing herself to fight. "Я не могу."
I can't.
Karine frowned, her own body tensing into her version of a fighting stance. She raised her arms, not an idiot to what was about to happen. Yet, she spoke: "Меня убьют, Мне жаль."
They will kill me, I'm sorry.
"Я знаю."
I know.
Like a vicious animal, Stefanya attacked, sending a foot towards the other's jaw and feeling the hard contact of bone benief the ball of her foot. As she attempted to regain her footing, Karine recovered and grabbed a handful of her French braid, black contrasting against pale skin, and yanked her towards the wall, shoving her face against it. All Stefayna offered was a small noise of pain, though she was used to worse when she fought with the others.
In response, and when Karine's grip didn't falter, she found herself with no choice but to use the nail. Holding it in her small hand like one would a knife, she knew as much force as she could into stabbing the girl, and managed to sink it into the flesh of her hand, which caused her to let go of her hair.
With the nail gone and her opponent occupied, Stefanya used this time to prepare for another strike. Kicking the wounded girl in the gut, she watched the air be knocked from her small body as she feel against the floor, knife still in hand and said wound leaking a dark crimson shade.
She stalked towards her prey like a lioness desperate to feed her cubs, placing her bare foot against her stomach, watching with an ill satisfaction as the young girl, no older than herself, stared up at her, wide eyed and terrified, "Мерси."
Mercy.
"Нет."
No.
For the second time in her short life, Stefanya snapped her victim's neck. And for the first time, she considered it an easy kill.
After giving a long, sad look towards the dead girl, she pulled the knife from her hand, wiped the blood off against her nightgown, and found herself facing the door. She reached her nail-free hand out to open it, only to find herself interrupted.
"You fought well." Madame B.'s voice caused goosebumps to cover her skin, and for her mouth to feel like she ate some glue. She didn't turn to face the older woman, and instead opened the door. She wished she could witness any shock the woman might have shown.
"I know." And, without any hesitation on her part, Stefanya sprinted out the door, feeling like she ran fast enough to be considered a blur.
A/N:
This managed to be both more violent and yet less violent as I intended it to be. I wanted a lot more action with her fighting Karine, but had little idea how to do that, so instead I accidently made Karine sound weak. My bad, Karine, RIP.
A few things I would like to mention -
* Though both Marvel wiki's I've been through, neither told me the exact ages of the girls when they were brought in. I improvised, and said that Stefanya was five, and made it seem like the other girls were around that age, as well.
* In the comics, the ballet lessons were actually fake and like… all holograms in their mind? It's confusing and made me kinda sad, so I just stuck with good ol' actual ballet lessons that secretly teach you how to kill.
* Like said in the summary, Stefayna is a daughter of Hermes. Not only does that give her demigod reflects and enhanced abilities, that also means she can mentally unlock any non-cursed lock, run really fast, is very stealthy, and is a good thief. I contribute most of these things (actually all, if you count the nail as stealing) towards her escape. If she wasn't a daughter of Hermes, I doubt she would have managed to do this, considering she isn't really special other than that.
* I'm writing this for fun, so if you think it's far-fetched or stupid, you don't have to read.
* Though she has escaped the Red Room, we will be seeing flashbacks and memories of her time spent there. Especially Annika, because, even though it's not highlighted heavily, her one-year friendship with that girl is big to her character.
* Stef isn't some badass! Demigods just happen to be better fighters than mortals. I'm sure if you would have thrown a trained demigod at her, her ass would have been kicked. It also does help that Karine was eight. (So was Stef but, once more, demigod.)
* Her mother didn't want a daughter and wasn't aware Hermes was a God, or she would have totally kept her daughter. Mama, as Stef knows her, is just a bitch, and we'll get to see more of her soon.
That's all for now folks, thank you for reading, please review!